


The Dance of Tonenili

by glasgow_blue



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-07
Updated: 2004-04-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:42:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9225344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasgow_blue/pseuds/glasgow_blue





	

For [](http://alchemywow.livejournal.com/profile)[**alchemywow**](http://alchemywow.livejournal.com/) : _design, rain, revolve, billy_

300 words. With thanks to [](http://diavestra.livejournal.com/profile)[**diavestra**](http://diavestra.livejournal.com/) for the beta on the fly.

Billy wakes up to the sound of low chanting drifting in through the open window. It is nonsensical and only quasi melodic and he sighs knowingly. Dom is doing a rain dance out in the back garden. He sits up and squints at the window and, sure enough, there is Dom stripped to the waist.

He has decorated himself with designs in mud and what looks to be either HP sauce or perhaps currant jelly and there are pigeon feathers stuck in his hair at wild angles. Billy really, really does not want to know how they came to be in Dom’s possession, but he has to admire the look, which is part earth god and part mad man. Something only Dom can pull off with any sense of decorum.

There is a forked stick planted in the ground and, on it, Dom has impaled a small plush animal that was once plump and cuddly. The animal--a turtle, perhaps--hangs limp with a scattered mound of once-stuffed innards beneath on the grass. Frankly, the image is a little disturbing. Part urchin, part savage. On the left branch, Dom has balanced one of his leather wristbands and the afternoon sun glints off the silver buckle. Dom himself revolves around the talisman like a rogue planet, his movements erratically circular, his voice rising and falling in a lurching cadence.

Billy thinks a moment, then pads downstairs in his bare feet, heading for the terrace. Once there, he takes up station at the garden hose and aims it in a high arc. The spray sends a rainbow into Dom’s dance and the drops surround him in a halo of golden light. He stops mid-step, flings both arms out with palms skyward and turns his face to the clouds, grinning like a fool.  



End file.
